


The Trapped

by Tig_sama1



Series: The Host [2]
Category: The Host (2013), The Host - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Drama, F/F, F/M, Family, Fanfiction, Fantasy, Fiction, M/M, Romance, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:47:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23662579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tig_sama1/pseuds/Tig_sama1
Summary: The Host Series Book 2: Where the past, & the present intermingle. Jamie Stryder is lost. Jared Howe is protecting Jamie. Jasper is gone. Melanie Stryder has been taken by the Souls. She is now Wanderer, one of the oldest Souls around. Join Melanie & Wanderer in their journey together before they joined the human pocket. Thoughts co-align. And an alien grows to love, & learn. I do not own The Host, it belongs to Stephenie Meryer
Relationships: Doc/Original Male Character, Ian O'Shea/Wanderer, Jamie Stryder & Wanderer, Jamie Stryder/Original Character(s), Jared Howe/Melanie Stryder, Kyle O'Shea/Original Female Character
Series: The Host [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703791
Kudos: 1





	1. A Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanderer

**Chapter One**

**A Soul**

_::Wanderer::_

I knew it would begin with the end, and the end would look like death to these eyes. I had been warned.

Not _these eyes_. _My_ eyes. _Mine_. This was _me_ now.

The language I found myself using was odd, but it made sense. Choppy, boxy, blind, and linear. Impossibly crippled in comparison to many I'd used, yet still it managed to find fluidity and expression. Sometimes beauty. My language now. My native tongue.

With the truest instinct of my kind, I'd bound myself securely into the body's center of thought, twined myself inescapably into its every breath and reflex until it was no longer a separate entity. It was me.

Not _the_ body, _my_ body.

I felt the sedation wearing off and lucidity taking its place. I braced myself for the onslaught of the first memory, which would really be the last memory — the last moments this body had experienced, the memory of the end. I had been warned thoroughly of what would happen now. These human emotions would be stronger, more vital than the feelings of any other species I had been. I had tried to prepare myself.

The memory came. And, as I'd been warned, it was not something that could ever be prepared for.

It seared with sharp color and ringing sound. Cold on her skin, pain gripping her limbs, burning them. The taste was fiercely metallic in her mouth. And there was the new sense, the fifth sense I'd never had, that took the particles from the air and transformed them into strange messages and pleasures and warnings in her brain — scents. They were distracting, confusing to me, but not to her memory. The memory had no time for the novelties of smell. The memory was only fear.

Fear locked her in a vise, goading the blunt, clumsy limbs forward but hampering them at the same time. To flee, to run — it was all she could do.

_I've failed._

The memory that was not mine was so frighteningly strong and clear that it sliced through my control — overwhelmed the detachment, the knowledge that this was just a memory and not me. Sucked into the hell that was the last minute of her life, I was she, and we were running.

It's so dark. I can't see. I can't see the floor. I can't see my hands stretched out in front of me. I run blind and try to hear the pursuit I can feel behind me, but the pulse is so loud behind my ears it drowns everything else out.

It's cold. It shouldn't matter now, but it hurts. I'm so cold.

The air in her nose was uncomfortable. Bad. A bad smell. For one second, that discomfort pulled me free of the memory. But it was only a second, and then I was dragged in again, and my eyes filled with horrified tears.

I'm lost, we're lost. It's over.

They're right behind me now, loud and close. There are so many footsteps! I am alone. I've failed.

The Seekers are calling. The sound of their voices twists my stomach. I'm going to be sick.

"It's fine, it's fine," one lies, trying to calm me, to slow me. Her voice is disturbed by the effort of her breathing.

"Be careful!" another shouts in warning.

"Don't hurt yourself," one of them pleads. A deep voice, full of concern.

Concern!

Heat shot through my veins, and a violent hatred nearly choked me.

I had never felt such an emotion as this in all my lives. For another second, my revulsion pulled me away from the memory. A high, shrill keening pierced my ears and pulsed in my head. The sound scraped through my airways. There was a weak pain in my throat.

 _Screaming_ , my body explained. _You're screaming._ I froze in shock, and the sound broke off abruptly.

This was not a memory.

My body — she was _thinking!_ Speaking to me!

But the memory was stronger, in that moment, than my astonishment.

"Please!" they cry. "There is danger ahead!"

 _The danger is behind!_ I scream back in my mind. But I see what they mean. A feeble stream of light, coming from who knows where, shines on the end of the hall. It is not the flat wall or the locked door, the dead end I feared and expected. It is a black hole.

An elevator shaft. Abandoned, empty, and condemned, like this building. Once a hiding place, now a tomb.

A surge of relief floods through me as I race forward. There is a way. No way to survive, but perhaps a way to win.

 _No, no, no!_ This thought was all mine, and I fought to pull myself away from her, but we were together. And we sprinted for the edge of death.

"Please!" The shouts are more desperate.

I feel like laughing when I know that I am fast enough. I imagine their hands clutching for me just inches behind my back. But I am as fast as I need to be. I don't even pause at the end of the floor. The hole rises up to meet me mid stride.

The emptiness swallows me. My legs flail, useless. My hands grip the air, claw through it, searching for anything solid. Cold blows past me like tornado winds.

I hear the thud before I feel it…. The wind is gone….

And then pain is everywhere…. Pain is everything.

Make it stop.

 _Not high enough,_ I whisper to myself through the pain.

When will the pain end? When..?

The blackness swallowed up the agony, and I was weak with gratitude that the memory had come to this most final of conclusions. The blackness took all, and I was free. I took a breath to steady myself, as was this body's habit. _My body._

But then the color rushed back, the memory reared up and engulfed me again.

 _No!_ I panicked, fearing the cold and the pain and the very fear itself.

But this was not the same memory. This was a memory within a memory — a final memory, like a last gasp of air — yet, somehow, even stronger than the first.

The blackness took all but this: a face.

The face was as alien to me as the faceless serpentine tentacles of my last host body would be to this new body. I'd seen this kind of face in the images I had been given to prepare for this world. It was hard to tell them apart, to see the tiny variations in color and shape that were the only markers of the individual. So much the same, all of them. Noses centered in the middle of the sphere, eyes above and mouths below, ears around the sides. A collection of senses, all but touch, concentrated in one place. Skin over bones, hair growing on the crown and in strange furry lines above the eyes. Some had more fur lower down on the jaw; those were always males. The colors ranged through the brown scale from pale cream to a deep almost-black. Aside from that, how to know one from the other?

This face I would have known among millions.

This face was a hard rectangle, the shape of the bones strong under the skin. In color it was a light golden brown. The hair was just a few shades darker than the skin, except where flaxen streaks lightened it, and it covered only the head and the odd fur stripes above the eyes. The circular irises in the white eyeballs were darker than the hair but, like the hair, flecked with light. There were small lines around the eyes, and her memories told me the lines were from smiling and squinting into sunlight.

I knew nothing of what passed for beauty among these strangers, and yet I knew that this face was beautiful. I wanted to keep looking at it. As soon as I realized this, it disappeared.

 _Mine_ , spoke the alien thought that should not have existed.

Again, I was frozen, stunned. There should have been no one here but me. And yet this thought was so strong and so aware!

Impossible. How was she still here? This was me now.

 _Mine_ , I rebuked her, the power and authority that belonged to me alone flowing through the word. _Everything is mine._

 _So why am I talking back to her?_ I wondered as the voices interrupted my thoughts.

Please note this is an original chapter from The Host by Stephenie Meyer.

Chapter 1: Remembered

Please be aware of this!

Sincerely,

Tig-sama


	2. Overheard

**Chapter Two**

**Overheard**

_::Wanderer's Point of View::_

The voices were soft and close and, though I was only now aware of them, apparently in the middle of a murmured conversation.

"I'm afraid it's too much for her," one said. The voice was soft but deep, male. "Too much for anyone. Such violence!"

"She screamed once, that is all," said a higher, reedy, female voice, pointing out with a hint of glee, as if she were winning an argument.

"I know," the male voice admitted. "She is very strong. Others have had extreme trauma, with much less _endings._ "

"I'm sure she'll be fine, just as I told you." the female voice sniffed.

"Maybe you missed your Calling." The edge in the man's voice rose, sarcasm, my memory named it. "Perhaps you were meant to be a Healer, like me."

The woman made a sound of disgust. "I doubt that. We Seekers prefer a different kind of diagnosis."

My body knew this title the female voice spoke of. _Seeker_. It sent a shudder of fear down my spine, the body's spine. A leftover reaction, that's what it must be. Of course, I had no reason to fear Seekers.

"I sometimes wonder if the infection of humanity touches those in your profession the man mused, his edgy-voice gained a sour note of annoyance. "Violence is part of your life choice. Does enough of your body's native temperament linger to give you enjoyment of the horror?"

I was surprised at his accusation, at his tone. The discussion was almost like an argument. Something I was not familiar with, but my host was.

The woman had a defensive tone. "We do not choose violence. We face it when we must. And it's a good thing for the rest of you that some of us are strong enough for the unpleasantness. Your peace would be shattered without our work."

"Once upon a time. Your Calling will soon be obsolete, I think."

"The error of that statement lies on that bed over there. You cannot ignore that!"

"One human girl, alone and unarmed! Yes, quite a threat to our peace from what I see."

The woman sucked in a breath almost trying to hold back something, _anger._ "But where did she come from? How did she appear in the middle of Chicago, a city long since civilized, hundreds of miles from any trace of rebel activity? Did she manage alone? Do explain that to me."

She listed questions without seeking the answer, as if she had already voiced them many times.

"That's your problem, not mine," the man said. "My job is to help this soul adapt herself to her new host without unnecessary pain or trauma. And you are here to interfere with my job. Perhaps you should leave until she is appropriately acclimated."

Still slowly surfacing, acclimating myself to this new world of senses. I understood I was the topic of the conversation. I was the one they spoke of. It was a new connotation to the word. On every planet we took a different name. _Soul_. I suppose it was an apt description. The unseen force that guides the body.

"The answers to my questions matter as much as your responsibilities to the soul."

"That is very debatable."

Suddenly there was a shift, and the woman started speaking in hushed tones, "When will she become responsive? The sedation must be about to wear off by now."

"When she is ready. Leave her be. She deserves to handle the situation how she wishes. In the most comfortable for herself. Imagine the shock of her awakening-inside a rebel host injured to the point of death in the escape attempt! No one should have to endure such trauma in times of peace!" His voice rose with an increase in emotion.

"She is strong." The woman's tone was reassuring. "See how well she did with the first memory, the worst memory. Whatever she expected, she handled it."

"Why should she have to?" the man muttered, but he didn't seem to expect an answer.

The woman answered anyway. "If we're to get the information we need -"

" _Need_ being your word. I would choose the term ` _`want._ "

"Then someone must take on the unpleasantness," she continued as if he had not interrupted. "And I think from all I know of this one, she would accept the challenge if there had been any way to ask her. What do you call her?"

The man didn't speak for a long moment. The woman waited.

"Wanderer."


	3. New Place

**Chapter Three**

**New Place**

_::Third Person Point of View::_

They had traveled a long distance.

Fear coursed through them.

Insecurity laced with exhaustion.

Hunger for comfort and food.

But most of all.

Was the sadness behind it all.

Jamie Stryder walked steadily with Jared Howe, clinging to the man's arm, his eyes drooping as he had his arms wrapped around the tall blonde's left side. Travelling for days, tear streaks were evident along the young boy's face as he stumbled for but a moment before the twenty-five year-old caught the boy.

"Hold tight, Jamie." he rasped, as he looked down to the boy.

Nodding, he shuffled his feet, Jamie couldn't produce the answer to the words Jared had shared. Both had cried, but neither could produce the tears anymore. They had escaped the aliens on their earth, but not without loss.

Staring at the desert land in front of them, the canyons in which there might be life, the last hope. Hopefully.

He wanted nothing more than to lay on the ground and sob, cry without the tears or the heat to disturb him. He wanted to sleep with the memories of his most important people. However, he couldn't. All he had… was Jared.

Jared was there to help him. He needed the strong, but emotional man, the one whom his-his-his sister cared deeply for.

He counted their steps, Jared didn't look down at the ground as he felt the heat radiating on his back, the heat on his side, shuffling with him. It was a reassurance. The boy he kept an arm wrapped around, an important existence.

They walked a long time, he wasn't sure how long, he knew they still had a day's or so journey to make after nearly being caught by aliens a few days back. He was careless, too emotional, he knew it, but wouldn't let it hold him back any longer.

Jamie, don't worry. I've got you. I won't let you go. He couldn't voice himself, it made him feel choked up. Because as soon as he said the words, he knew he would double over in his own mourning.

The sun had nearly set, the sky was beautiful, hues of golden pinks, yellow, and purple. She would have loved this sight, even if we were in dire straits. He thought, staring up at the sky for a moment.

"J-Jared...look." the young boy whispered, still clinging onto the man.

Looking down at Jamie, he noticed the direction the boy was looking in. Raising his own head, opposite of the sunset's gaze, he saw it. Several figures making their way to them, figures not in white, figures of hope.

He stepped forward. The boy slightly slid behind him, shy or fearful, he didn't know.

As they grew closer, so did the figures, they all wore patchwork clothing, most likely hand made, a man holding a shotgun with a salt & pepper beard, a woman with an angry look and similar features as the man with the gun, several others also stood around them.

"I don' reckon either of you are from them aliens, aren't you?" the shotgun man asks.

Jared shook his head, keeping a close hand behind his back, Jamie had slithered a hand into his, a sign of each other's comfort. The woman watched his movement like a hawk, her eyes moving down to his arm, then passed, but when she looked down at his feet, she saw a second smaller set of feet behind him.

Looking back up, her gaze softened in understanding when she met the man's eyes, they weren't eyes of danger towards them, but fear of them, not for himself. It was for the little one behind him.

"Jebediah." She spoke sternly.

"I know, Maggie." the man with the shotgun replied.

Jamie blinked, he recognized the names, but wasn't sure. Could it be? He thought to himself. He leaned out from behind Jared slightly, his head peeking passed, looking at the people, his eyes started at feet.

Boots, worn and snake skin. Pants, patchwork. A belt with a crest, he recognized it from pictures. Leather coat, brown. Hands holding a shotgun. He also recognized it. Then his eyes looked passed the salt & pepper beard, passed the long thin nose, and into the familiar blue orbs much like his own.

"Uncle Jeb?" He spoke, startling Jared, and the others around.

The woman blinked in surprise, was this who she thought it was?!

"What do we have here? I seem to recognize you from somewhere." the man with the shotgun spoke as the boy slipped out from behind Jared a little more. "Long thin nose, scraggly arms and legs, and are those blue eyes, I see?" He spoke rather sternly, but the mischief in his eyes was clear.

Shoulder's shaking, Jamie could feel the tears he had been holding back for a long time, fall plainly on his cheeks, he recognized the mischief, it reminded him of her, and his sister.

"Uncle Jeb!" He cried out, running forward to cling to the man he knew from his younger days as a small boy. Slipping, himself down into a better position, the man placed the shotgun out of the way, opening his arms for the boy.

"Whoa there." He commented with a grin.

Jared blinked, falling slightly to his knees as the woman approached, "Let's get you inside, son." she waved to others, who stepped forward lifting Jared's arms up, helpling him to his feet. "Maggie Stryder, I'm the boy's aunt." she spoke, not quite explaining things in detail, but just enough.

He nods, his mind going slightly blank as he watched in relief at how they finally found more humans like himself, and Jamie. They traveled towards some rather high canyon outcrops. Walking into a tunnel, it was pitch black, but since Jamie was clinging to the man called, "Uncle Jeb" and he was being aided to walk by two blonde men who looked almost exactly alike. No light was needed.

He barely remembered everything except when they entered a large room with tables, and counters. It reminded him of a cafeteria, but the place was a little quiet, nobody seemed to be around except for a few women who seemed to be focused on something behind a handmade counter of red clay.

They continued on, until they reached a place of extreme quietness, things seemed clean and had a mix of white with dust of red. A sign of the desert caves they wandered in.

He had been laid down on something similar to a cot, he wasn't sure, he was tired. Sleep. He could barely keep his eyes open as he watched the man with the gun carry Jamie into the room and set him down as well. The boy had already fallen into a deep slumber.

The man looked over at Jared, "Rest now, I'm sure I'll be asking lots of questions when you wake. Name's Jeb." He spoke before turning and leaving.

His eyes closed, the sleep didn't feel restful, but he slept nonetheless.


	4. Who, What, Why, How?

**Chapter Four**

**Who, What, Why, How?**

_::Third Person Point of View::_

He woke up hungrier than he thought, but thirsty too. He opened his eyes to his arms wrapped around the backpack he had clung to so much before he saw his uncle.

Jamie, opened his eyes sluggishly, the thing he was laying on was comfortable. He didn't understand, where was he? Why was it comfy? It smelled cleaner than-

His eyes burst open, he remembered, they found the human pocket. With his Uncle Jeb being there, turning his head, he looked around. Spotting Jared, sighing in relief, he made his way off the strange bed.

The room seemed odd, he never saw anything like it, there was rows of strange beds, and everything was either white, or looked to be clean in a dusty way.

Placing a hand on Jared's shoulder, he shook it. "Jared." he whispered lightly at first, the man's in turn, barely moved. Shaking the shoulder a little harder, "Jared." he tried again, a little louder this time.

"Wha...amie?" the sluggish response was what he got. Jared turned a little, "Jared, we're here." Jamie replied. This seemed to do the trick, opening his eyes finally, he looked around himself.

Jared stared at the boy in front of him, Jamie still held the backpack to his chest, the one with all his most important things as he called it. The straps on the bag slightly ragged from the years of use, the clothing on him was the same as when they were found, and the curiosity in Jamie's eyes lit up like blue flowers on sunrise.

"I see you two are up." a deep male voice spoke, it's gravelly tone curt.

"Uncle Jeb!" Jamie said, looking at the man, but not racing to him like last night. Now that he had slept, he felt more shy, and kept close to Jared.

"Good morning, breakfast is almost ready. I bet you would like to clean up a bit, am' right?" He asked, still holding the shotgun, but it was holstered over his shoulder.

Nodding, Jamie stood up, holding the backpack to his chest, whilst he looked to Jared. Waiting for him. Sighing deeply, Jared lifted himself up, he understood his own curiosity was just the same as Jamie's.

Following the man with the shotgun, Jared could barely remember him giving his name, Jeb was it? Yes. That was the name Jamie had said.

Speaking in a matter of fact voice, Jeb explained some things whilst they travelled along the tunnels, some places were dark, others not so much. They passed a large area with all the tables, no one was around just yet, but some other people were working behind the red clay counter.

He could remember that much.

As they finally passed it, into a different area with more light, brighter than he realized, he notice it. Crops. Astonishment flashed before him.

"She still needs a bit of work, but we're getting there." Jeb stated as he continued his walk.

Looking over at the man, Jared noticed the objects under his arms finally. Two towels, clothes and something that looked like soap.

Reaching a dark hole in the wall, Jeb picked up what looked to be a lantern, and lit it. "It's rather dark in 'ere. You'll get used to the darkness, and become familiar with it, but first, you both stink. I've some clothes that might fit you. Here you go, I'll be waiting out here, I've some things I need to do." Jeb explained, handing the objects to Jared.

"Thank you." Jared spoke finally, his voice raspy from being unused.

In the time they had travelled, Jared noticed how Jamie still seemed to stick close to him. It made him feel odd, he felt relieved the boy was cautious, but to his own family? He could understand it, they only had each other for such a long time, but he couldn't at the same time.

The place was dark, the lantern lit the way inside as a large tub like place could be seen. He remembered correctly, Jeb described the place as a dead volcano, lowering a hand down, he touched the water. It was warm. It was spectacular.

They spent a long time in the bath, enjoying it. Speaking quietly to each other about the new things they saw, excited, but Jared still felt a tingle of sadness. Neither of them spoke of the one thing they most wanted to speak of. Not yet.

When they made their way out, a long line of people stood there. He was surprised, people must be getting up, or returning from something, noticing Jeb speaking to someone, they walked up to them. Holding the lantern, the clothes, and the soap.

Smiling, "Enjoy your time?" Jeb asked, a glint in his eyes.

Jamie spoke before Jared could, "It was so nice, it's been a long time."

Jared blinked, Jamie wasn't smiling, but the relief of having a bath after a long time of travels was clear on the boys face. Jared nodded, "Thank you for the clothes. What should we do with these?" he asked, looking to Jeb.

Taking the clothes and lantern, Jeb turned to a group of people getting ready to walk in, "Ian, Kyle, here would you take these to the wash after you finish?"

Two blonde men that looked almost exactly alike, twins. One smiled in greeting, "Sure, Jeb. Good to meet you two now, I'm Ian O'Shea, this is my twin brother, Kyle."

The others seemed preoccupied with other things as Jeb lead them away. As they walked, Jamie kept close to Jared still, clutching the backpack to him. Jeb spoke in his same tone from earlier, describing the area, and where to go for certain things.

When they made it into the big room, he walked forward picking up several trays for them with one for himself. "Here, best to serve yourselves, and not have others do it." Jeb explained as they moved forward to the red clay counter.

"Mornin' Trudy. What's for breakfast?" Jeb spoke, his tone rather cheery in an old man kind of way.

"Biscuits and gravy, Jeb." the woman replied. "How much you want? Oh, I see you brought the newcomers with you! I'm Trudy." the woman had salt & pepper hair, it was long and reach past her shoulders, braided beautifully. Her tan skin lit golden as she smiled kindly to them.

"Nice to meet you, Ma'am." Jared spoke, nodding his head in greeting. "Jared Howe, this is Jamie Stryder."

"I reckon you both 're quite hungry, hold yer trays out, dears." She stated, following her orders, she takes their trays behind the counter.

Dumping lots of biscuits and gravy on both trays for them. Then she pulls them out and hands them to the two males. "Hot and fresh! Here Jeb, this is yours."

"Thank ya, Trudy." Jeb replied.

Making his way to a random table as other people made their way into the big room. Jared carried both his and Jamie's share, since the boy still clutched the backpack.

Sitting down, Jeb disappeared suddenly before reappearing with bottles of water. "I reckon you both need some water in your systems after such a long journey." he stated handing them some water.

Nodding in thanks, they ate quietly, whilst Jeb spoke. Others soon joined the table they sat at. Maggie being one of them, Ian and Kyle, the twins who had introduced themselves appeared as well.

They spent a long quiet time together, eating their food in peace. It felt...odd.

Holo, darling Readers!

Yes, yes, I know, there is very few of you who are reading this, but I do so enjoy this book, and have been wanting to write a fanfic for quite a long time.

So, here's the details.

This is based purely off of the book, with bits of details from the movies as well.

The timeline flip flops between Wanderer with Melanie both during the time Melanie's body was being healed, and the time they were learning about each other.

Yes, Jamie and Jared's time with the pocket of humans is going to be written, but I must mention, all of this is my own writing, theories of what was happening inbetween that time. Most of it will be focused on points of my choosing.

What about Jasper?! She'll be back, don't worry, but this is multiple pairings, not just the main ones. I do want to explore some other character's points of view, like Ian or Kyle, I wouldn't do Jeb, he's too cool for my measly writings.

Most of the Wanderer/Melanie interactions will be original writing from the book, I do NOT own The Host, and neither do I claim Stephenie Meyer's writing. I enjoy what she writes between Wanderer/Melanie, but some of it will be originally my writing too. Probably mostly her musings of Jared, Jamie, and memories of Jasper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tig-sama
> 
> ADVERTISEMENT TIME!
> 
> If you like this, you might also like some of my other works, such as…
> 
> The Hold: Book One of the The Host Fanfiction Series (Completed)
> 
> Mai & Mei: An Anime Fanfiction of a fairly unknown series called, "Ghost Hunt" (Ongoing)
> 
> Mai & Mei Specials: An Anime Fanfiction of "Ghost Hunt" connected to "Mai & Mei" main fanfiction. This really surrounds the past of multiple characters including the character directly from the show itself. (Ongoing)
> 
> Please let me know what your opinions are! I greatly appreciate it!
> 
> Thank you for your time!
> 
> Enjoy!


	5. Emotions Are a First

**Chapter Five**

**Emotions Are a First**

_::Wanderer Point of View::_

"Fitting." she said. "I don't have any official statistic, but she has to be one of the very few, if not the only one, who has wandered so far. Yes, _Wanderer_ will suit her well until she chooses a new name for herself."

He said nothing.

"Of course, she may assume the host's name… We found no matches on record for the fingerprints or retinal scan. I can't tell you what the name was."

"She won't take the human name." the man muttered.

Her response was conciliatory. "Everyone finds comfort in their own way."

"This Wanderer will need more than most, thanks to your style of Seeking."

There were sharp sounds - footsteps, staccato against a hard floor. When she spoke again, the woman's voice was across the room from the man.

"You would have reacted poorly to the early days of this occupation." she said.

"Perhaps you react poorly to peace."

The woman laughed, but the sound was false - there was no real amusement. My mind seemed well adapted to inferring the true meanings from tones and inflections.

"You do not have a clear perception of what my Calling entails. Long hours hunched over files and maps. Mostly desk work. Not very often the conflict of violence you seem to think it is."

"Ten days ago you were armed with killing weapons, running this body down."

"The exception, I assure you, not the rule. Do not forget, the weapons that disgust you are turned on our kind wherever we Seeker have not been vigilant enough. Humans kill us happily whenever they have the ability to do so. Those whose lives have been touched by the hostility see us as heroes."

"You speak as if a war were raging."

"To the remains of the human race, one is."

These words were strong in my ears. My body reacted to them; I felt my breathing speed, heard the sound of my heart pumping louder than usual. Beside the bed I lay on, a machine registered the increases with a muted beeping. The Healer and the Seeker were too involved in their disagreement to notice.

"But one that even they must realize is long lost. They are outnumbered by what? A million to one? I imagine you would know."

"We estimate the odds are quite a bit higher in our favor." she admitted begrudgingly.

The Healer appeared to be content to let his side of the disagreement res with that information. It was quiet for a moment.

I used the empty information to evaluate my situation. Much was obvious.

I was in a Healing facility, recovering from an unusually traumatic insertion. I was sure the body that hosted me had been fully healed before it was given to me. A damaged host would have been disposed of.

I considered the opinions of the Healer and the Seeker. According to the information I had been given before making the choice to come here, the Healer had the right of it. Hostilities with the few remaining pockets of humans were all but over. The planet called Earth was as peaceful and serene as it looked from space, invitingly green and blue, wreathed in its harmless white vapors. As was the way of the soul, harmony was universal.

The verbal dissension between the Healer and the Seeker was out of character. Strangely aggressive for our kind. It made me wonder. Could they be true, the whispered rumors that had undulated like waves through the thoughts of the… of the…

I was distracted, trying to find the name for my last host species. We'd had a name, I knew that. But, no longer connected to that host, I could not remember the word. We'd used much simpler language than this, a silent language of thought that connected us all into one great mind. A necessary convenience when one was rooted forever into the wet back soil.

I could describe that species in my new human language. We lived on the floor of the great ocean that covered the entire surface or our world - a world that had a name, too, but that was also gone. We each had a hundred arms and on each arm a thousand eyes, to that, with our thoughts connected, not one sight in the vast water went unseen. There was no need for sound, so there was no way to hear it. We tasted the waters, and with our sight that told us all we needed to know. We tasted the suns, so many leagues above the water, and turned their taste into food we needed.

I could describe us, but I could not name us. I sighted for the lost knowledge, and then returned my ponderings to what I'd overheard.

Souls did not, as a rule, speak anything but the truth. Seekers, of course, had the requirements of their Calling, but between souls there was never a reason to lie. With my last species' language of thought, it would be impossible to had we wanted to. However, anchored as we were, we told ourselves stories to alleviate the boredom. Storytelling was the most honored of all talents, for it benefited everyone.

Sometimes, fact mixed with fiction so thoroughly that, though no lies were told, it was hard to remember what was strictly true.

When we thought of the new planet - Earth, so dry, so varied, and filled with such violent, destructive denizens we could barely imagine them - our horror was sometimes overshadowed by our excitement. Stories spun themselves quickly around the thrilling new subject. The wars - wars! Our kind have to fight! - were first reported accurately and then embellished and fictionalized. When the stories conflicted with the official information I sought out, I naturally believed the first reports.

But there were whispers of this: of human hosts so strong that souls were forced to abandon them. Hosts whose minds could not be completely suppressed. Souls who took on the personality of the body, rather than the other way around. Stories. Wild rumors. Madness.

But that seemed almost to be the Healer's accusation….

I dismissed the thought. The more likely meaning of his censure was the distaste most of us felt for Seeker's Calling. Who would choose a life of conflict and pursuit? Who would be attracted to the chore of tracking down unwilling hosts and capturing them? Who has the stomach to face the violence of this particular species, the hostile humans who killed so easily, so thoughtlessly? Here, on this planet, the seekers had become practically a….militia - my new brain applied the term for the unfamiliar concept. Mot believed that only the least civilized souls, the least evolved, the lesser among us, would be drawn to the path of Seeker.

Everything absorbed into my still adjusting mind.

So I took a deep breath to prepare myself. The monitor registered the movement. I knew I was stalling a bit. I hated to admit it, but I was afraid. To get information the Seeker needed, I would have to explore the violent memories that had made me scream in horror.

I searched for the memories. I shouldn't be afraid. This is mine.

I knew what the Seeker wanted, but as I searched. I hit it. A wall. It was blank, a nothing. I tried circling around it, but I couldn't. It was a solid void.

As if the brain had been damaged.

Anger flashed through me, hot and wild. I gasped in surprise at the unexpected reaction. Emotions so new and unexpected.

I felt everything pumping inside me, the blood pulse through my neck, the pounding in my ears. My hands tighten into fists.

The machines beside me reported the acceleration of my heartbeats. There was a reaction in the room: the sharp tap of the Seeker's shoes approached me, mingled with a quieter shuffle that must have been the Healer.

"Welcome to Earth, Wanderer," the female voice said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holo, darling Readers!
> 
> Yes, yes, I know, there is very few of you who are reading this, but I do so enjoy this book, and have been wanting to write a fanfic for quite a long time.
> 
> So, here's the details.
> 
> Another lovely chapter from the book. I know, I know. I skipped some parts, but I didn't want to put in all the parts. I'm sure it all makes sense either way, I do read my own works for inspiration.
> 
> Yes, this is a long-term series. It will be broken up into parts.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Sincerely, 
> 
> \- Tig-sama


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

**Dreams**

_::Melanie Point of View::_

_DREAM MEMORIES_

It is too dark to be so hot, or maybe too hot to be so dark. One of the two is out of place.

I crouch in the darkness behind the weak protection of a scrubby creosote bush, sweating out all the water left in my body. It;s been fifteen minutes since the car left the garage. No lights have come on. The arcadia door is open two inches, letting the swamp cooler do its job. I can imagine the feel of the moist, cool air blowing through the screen. I wish it could reach me here.

My stomach gurgles, and I clench my abdominal muscles to stifle the sound. It is quiet enough that the murmur carries.

I am so hungry.

There is another need that is stronger - another hungry stomach hidden safely far away in the darkness, waiting aone in the rough cave that is our temporary home. A cramped place, jagged with volcanic rock. What will he do if I don't come back? All the pressure of motherhood with none of the knowledge or the experience. I feel so hideously helpless. Jamie is hungry. Jasper is gone.

There are no other houses close to this one. I've been watching since the sun was still white hot in the sky, and I don't think there is a dog, either.

I ease up from my crouch, my calves screaming in protest, but keep hunched at the waist, trying to be smaller than the bush. The way up the wash is smooth sand, a pale pathway in the light of the stars. There are no sounds of cars on the road.

But her instincts kept telling her something would happen, however, she didn't know if it was bad or good. She would have to risk going against her instincts. She could hear Jasper's words in her mind as she prepared herself.

_If your mind says one thing, but your body says another, follow the body. Your instincts are the key to survival, if you feel something coming, yet it's neither good or bad, that's when you must decide with your mind._

The fence around the yard of the home is only waist high. I hop over easily. Noiselessly.

The blinds are open. The starlight is enough to see that the rooms are empty of movement. The rooms look scarce, good it means I won't have to worry about anyone hiding without my notice, but that doesn't mean anything for me either. By the time anyone enters, it will be too late.

I step forward toward a screen door, and open it first. Then the glass door. Bot glide open silently. I place my feet carefully on the tile, but this is just out of habit. No is waiting for me here.

The cool air feels like heaven.

The kitchen is to my left, I see the gleam of granite counters.

I pull the canvas bag from my shoulder and start with the refrigerator. There is a moment of anxiety as the light comes on when the door opens, but I find the button and hold it down with my toe. My eyes are blind. I don't have time to adjust. I go by feel.

Milk, cheese slices, leftovers in a plastic bowl. I hope it's the chicken-and-rice thing I watched them cook. We'll eat that tonight.

_Jasper would have liked that. She and Jamie like rice._

Juice, a bag of apples. Baby carrots. These will stay good till morning.

I hurried to the pantry. I need things that will keep longer.

I can see better as I gather as much as I can carry. Mmm, chocolate chip cookies. I'm dying to open this bag right now, but I grit my teeth and ignore the twist of my empty stomach.

My bag gets heavy too quickly. This will last us only a week, even if we're careful with it. And I don't feel like being careful; I feel like gorging. I shove granola bars into my pockets.

One more thing, I hurry to the sink and refill my canteen. Then I put my head under the flow and gulp straight from the stream. The water makes odd noises when it hits my empty stomach.

I start to feel panicked now that my job is done. I want to be out of here. Civilization is deadly.

I watch the floor on my way out, worried about tripping with my heavy bag, which is why i don't see the silhouetted black figure on the patio until my hand is on the door.

I hear his mumbled oath at the same time as my stupid squeak of fear. I spin to sprint for the front door, hoping the locks are not latched, or at least not difficult.

I don't even get two steps before rough, hard hands grab my shoulders and wrench me back against his body. Too big, too strong to be a woman. The bass voice proves me right.

"One sound and you die, " he threatens gruffly. I am shocked to feel a thin, sharp edge pushing into the skin under my jaw.

I don't understand. I shouldn't be given a choice. Who is this monster? I've never heard of one who breaks rules. I answer the only way I can.

"Do it," I spit through my teeth. "Just do it. I don't want to be a filthy parasite!"

I wait for the knife, and my heart is aching. Each beat saying a name. Jamie, Jasper, Jamie, Jamie! What will happen to you with me? I need you Jasper!

"Clever," the man mutters, and it doesn't sound like he's speaking to me. "Must be a Seeker. And that means a trap. How did they know?" The steel disappears from my throat, only to be replaced by a hand as hard as iron.

I can barely breathe under his grip.

"Where are the rest of them?" he demands, squeezing.

"It's just me!" I rasp, I can't lead him to Jamie. What will Jamie do when I don't come back? Jamie is hungry! Where are you Jasper! Jamie needs you.

_When you get stuck, buck up, girl! Use those long limbs of yours. Your smaller, taller, and have the advantage to slip through bigger enemies. Use your body's advantage._

Jasper's words rang in my mind as I tried to breath under his grip. I throw my elbow into his gut - and this really hurts. His stomach muscles are as iron hard as the hand. Which is very strange. Muscles like that are the product of hard living or obsession and the parasites are neither.

He doesn't even suck in a breath at my blow. Desperate, I jab my heel into his instep. This catches him off guard, and he wobbles. I wrench away, but he grabs hold of my bag, yanking me back into his body. His hand clamps down on my throat again.

"Feisty for a peace-loving body snatcher, aren't you?!"

I twist and claw, trying to break his hold. My nails catch his arm, but this just makes him tighten his hold on my throat.

"I will kill you, you worthless body thief. I'm not bluffing."

"Do it then!"

Suddenly he gasps, and I wonder if my flailing limbs have made contact. I don't feel any new bruises.

He lets go of my arm and grabs my hair. This must be it. He's going to cut my throat. I brace for the slice of the knife.

But the hand on my throat eases up, and then his fingers are fumbling on the back of my neck, rough, and warm on my skin.

"Impossible," he breathes.

Something hits the floor with a thud. He's dropped the knife?! I try to think of a way to get it. Maybe if I fall. The hand on my neck isn't tight enough to keep me from yanking free. I think I heard where the blade landed.

He spins me around suddenly. There is a click, and light blinds my left eye. I gasp and automatically twist away from it. His hand tightens in my hair. The light flickers to my right eye.

"I can't believe it," he whispers. "You're still human."

His hands grab my face from both sides, and before I can pull free, his lips come down hard on mine.

I'm frozen for half a second. No one has ever kissed me in my life. Not a real kiss. Just my parents' pecks on the cheek or forehead, so many years ago. Not even Jasper gave kisses out like this, she was always giving pecks of reassurance to Jamie and myself. This is something I thought I would never feel. I'm not sure exactly what it feels like, though. There's too much panic, too much terror, too much adrenaline, and the familiar voice of Jasper speaking in my mind.

_It's not just the aliens to be wary of. I met this human man who had gone completely insane from being alone. He tried to rape me, be careful not to let it happen to you either. You know what to hit them, right? All men will crumble._

I jerk my knee up in a sharp thrust.

He chokes out a wheezing sound, and I'm free. Instead of running for the front of the house again like he must suspect, I duck under his arm and leap through the open door. I think I can outrun him, even with my load, hopefully. I've got a head start, and he's still making pained noises. I know where I'm going- I won't leave a path he can see in the dark. I never dropped the food, and that's good. I think the granola bars a loss, though.

"Wait!" he yells.

 _Shut up!_ I think, but I don't yell back.

He's running after me. I can hear his voice getting closer. "I'm not one of them!"

 _Sure._ I keep my eyes on the sand and sprint. My dad used to say I ran like a cheetah. I was the fastest on my track team, state champion, back before the end of the world.

Jasper would always tell me how she wished she could be that fast. I told her could if she would stop carrying such a heavy load out of all of them.

"Listen to me!" He's still yelling at full volume. "Look! I'll prove it. Just stop and look at me!"

 _Not likely!_ I pivot off the wash and lift through the mesquites.

"I didn't think there was anyone left! Please, I need to talk to you!"

His voice surprises me - it's too close.

"I'm sorry I kissed you! That was stupid! I've just been alone for so long!"

"Shut _up!_ " I don't say loudly, but I know he hears. He's getting even closer. I've never been outrun before. I push my legs harder.

There's a low grunt to his breathing as he speeds up too.

Something big fles into my back, and I go down. I taste dirt in my mouth, and I'm pinned by something so heavy I can hardly breathe.

"Wat. A. Minute." he huffs.

He shifts his weight and rolls me over. He straddles my chest, trapping my arms under his legs. He is squishing the food in my bag, I growl at him, and try to squirm out from under him.

"Look, look, look!" he says. He pulls a cylinder from his hip pocket and twists the top. A beam of light shoots out at the end.

The light makes his skin yellow. It shows prominent cheekbones beside a long thin nose and a sharply squared off jaw. His lips stretched into a grin, but I can that they are full, for a man. His eyebrows and lashes bleached out from the sun.

But that's not what he is showing me.

His eyes, clear liquid sienna in the illumination, shine with no more than human reflection. He bounces the light left and right.

"See? See? I'm just like you."

"Let me see your neck." Suspicion is thick in my voice. I don't let myself believe that this is more than a trick.

His lips twist. "Well…. That won't exactly help anything. Aren't the eyes enough? You know I'm not one of them."

"Why won't you show me your neck?"

"Because I have a scar there," he admits.

I try to squirm out from under him again, and his hand pins my shoulder.

"It's self-inflicted," he explains. "I think I did a pretty good job, though it hurt like hell. I don't have all that pretty hair to cover my neck. The scar helps me blend in."

"Get off me."

He hesitates, then gets to his feet in one easy move, not needing his hands. Reminds me of Jasper. He holds one of his hands out, palm up, to me.

"Please don't run away. And, um, I'd rather you didn't kick me again."

I don't move. I know he can catch me if I try to run, just like the way Jasper could shoot me dead if she were my enemy.

"Who are you?" I whisper.

He smiles wide, "My name is Jared Howe. I haven't spoken to another human being in more than two years, so I'm sure I must seem… a little crazy to you. Please, forgive that and tell me your name, anyway?"

"Melanie," I whisper.

"Melanie," he repeats. "I can't tell you how delighted I am to meet you."

I grip my bag tightly, keeping my eyes on him. He reaches a hand down toward me slowly.

And I take it.

It isn't until I see my hand curl voluntarily around his hand that I realize I believe him.

He helps me to my feet and doesn't release my hand when I'm up.

"What now?" I asked guardedly.

"Well, we can't stay here long. Will you come back with me to the house? I left my bag. You beat me to the fridge."

I shake me head.

He seems to realize how brittle I am, how close to breaking I am.

I haven't met anyone other than Jasper with Jamie. And Jamie's not here to tell me whether this person is trustworthy or not.

"Will you wait for me here, then?" he asks in a gentle voice. "I'll be very quick. Let me get us more food."

"Us?"

"Do you really think I'm going to let you disappear? I'll follow you even if you tell me not to."

I don't want to disappear from him, I don't want anyone to disappear, not like Jasper.

"I…" How can I not trust another human completely? We're family-both part of the brotherhood of extinction. "I don't have time. I have so far to go and...Jamie is waiting."

"You're not alone," he realizes. His expression shows uncertainty for the first time.

"My brother. He's just nine, and he's so frightened when I'm away, ever since Jasper disappeared, he's grown so scared. It will take me half the night to get back to him. He won't know if I've been caught. He's so _hungry._ " As if to make my point, my stomach growls loudly.

Jared's smile is back, brighter than before, "Will it help if i give you a ride?"

"A ride?" I echo.

"I'll make you a deal. You wait here while I gather more food, and I'll take you anywhere you want to go in my jeep. It's faster than running - even faster than your running."

"You have a car?"

"Of course. Do you think I walked out here?"

I think of the six hours it took me to race here, and my forehead furrows.

"We'll be back to your brother in no time," he promises, "Don't move from this spot, okay?"

I nod.

"And eat something, please. I don't want your stomach to give us away." He grins, and his eyes crinkle up, fanning the lines out of the corners. My heart gives one hard thump, and I know I will wait here if it takes him all night.

He is still holding my hand. He let's go slowly, his eyes not leaving mine. He takes a step backwards, then pauses.

"Please don't kick me," he pleads, leaning forward, and grabbing my chin. He kisses me again, and this time I feel it. His lips are softer than his hands, and hot, even on a warm desert night. My hands reach for him instinctively. I touch the warm skin of his cheek, the rough hair on his neck. I could feel the ridged edge of something along his hairline.

It was the scar he mentioned.

I wanted to scream.


End file.
